


My Husband Is Better Than Yours and Mine Is Dumber

by goodmorningstarshines



Category: House M.D., Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Ambiguous/Open Ending, Bad Humor, Crack, Crack Treated Seriously, Fix-It of Sorts, Fluff, Gen, Happy Ending, Humor, Humorous Ending, I Ship It, I Tried, I Wrote This Instead of Sleeping, I didn't proof read this sorry, Idiots in Love, Or that one ending that makes no sense, This Is Not Going To Go The Way You Think, but then again i didn't know how this was going, mess of emotions, timelines! Wat?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-02
Updated: 2019-08-02
Packaged: 2020-07-29 07:02:26
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,009
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20078104
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/goodmorningstarshines/pseuds/goodmorningstarshines
Summary: It is never really a good idea to put one genius consultant and one genius doctor and their husbands in a small office with nothing better to do than talk.





	My Husband Is Better Than Yours and Mine Is Dumber

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [A House and A Holmes](https://archiveofourown.org/works/346169) by [astoryaboutwar](https://archiveofourown.org/users/astoryaboutwar/pseuds/astoryaboutwar). 

> This is a mess but was hella fun to write. I hope someone gets some amusement out of this.

John wasn't too sure how he'd ended up on a flight to New Jersey and then in a hospital in Princeton. He wasn't even sure if Sherlock knew. He'd been cutting off every question about the trip by harshly saying Mycroft, and moving on. It wasn't often that Sherlock did things without knowing everything about it, or without trying to find out. This trip was no different.

As they entered one of the many lifts of Princeton Plainsboro Teaching Hospital, Sherlock was back on the phone calling his brother. He was past spamming him with angry text messages and was now leaving a constant stream of voicemails. He'd done so many times before the flight. He continued after they landed and twice during the car ride away from the airport. Sadly for the staff of the hospital, his twentieth call wasn't granting him any information.

As they came closer and closer to whatever destination Mycroft had set, Sherlock's impatience was unmistakable. He had taken to deducing stuff about every nurse that they walked past after they got off the lift. They were luckily, hushed deductions, so no fights had started. However, this didn't mean John was free of the knowledge that a blood haired surgeon that had just pasted had slept with an extensive list of staff. He loved Sherlocks deduction skills, but boy they could be invasive.

They turned the corner John still adding little nods to what Sherlock was saying.

"Who is Dr. James Wilson?" Sherlock muttered looking at the name on the door. This most definitely got John's attention.

"The oncologist?"

"How did you know," Sherlock's words trailed off into unintelligible muttering, as John attention turned to the door. The name was most certainly familiar to him, and for a very good reason. I mean, the guy was pretty much a god to some doctors.

Never in a million year did he expect he'd be walking into his office. Wait, what? Sherlock, ever the impatient child, had pushed open the door and started to look around. Well, he was more directing John's gaze and studying his face then looking around, but this was normal enough for him to be shortened.

"Wonderment, awe. Are you broken, John?"

This continued for a minute or two until he could hear footsteps approaching and the distinct click of a cane. He was speechless but still very much aware and quickly pulled Sherlock to his side. Granted his side left them both in the walkway leading to a very well respected doctor's desk, but Sherlock was no longer opening drawers and moving stuff around with pencils and pens alike.

The door opened and for a brief moment, the buzz of the hospital leaked through. The click was softened by the carpet and four men now stood in the room. John knew at this point that he'd been with Sherlock too long, this somehow wasn't going to be the weirdest interaction he'd had by his side.

"Wow, Jimmy didn't know you brought strippers. I call the short one, his sweater rivals your ties in stupidity,"

"Um, can I ask who you are?"

John was very much ready to take over the talking but Sherlock, of course, beat him to it. "My dictator for a brother decided I need to break into the office of an oncologist," I side smile meet Sherlock's lips.

"Hmm, I limp corrected this one is much more interesting,"

"I'd like to apologize on behalf of my husband," A very strong foot met Sherlocks. "I'm John Watson, this is Sherlock Holmes. His brother seems to think we need to be here at this time. We must be mistaken, hope we didn't cause too much trouble," A hopeful smile was added to the end as he tried to salvage whatever was left of this interaction.

"No," John's lips parted a little bit but, before he could talk he was interrupted. "I will barricade you in this room with my cane if you try to leave,"

"House!" A glare was sent in the direction of who he guessed was named House, who does that to a child? He finally made his way back to Sherlock who looked scared him speechless. He'd look in on his target, this wasn't going to go well.

"Why don't we have a seat,"

There was an awkward shuffle and the only thing other than the panic that was on his mind was honestly, why the hell does this man have two sofas?

"Heavy limp from an injury earlier in life. No as a kid not as a teenager as an adult. Most of the pain is real some psychosomatic. Long relation to our dear doctor to your left. Hide your emotions as a result of your abusive father, likely a marine. Tell me more," John, yeah, John was used to this.

"Past drug use likely a smoker as well. History of self-harm likely on your legs and not your arms. You detach your emotions as a coping mechanism, neglect maybe?" Oh, how Jimmy was proud of his ignore Gregory House skill.

"You've worked here long as it's likely the only hospital that will put up with you. You've been dependent on drugs for years, no not just that. Just like your Vicoden, you're dependent on your precious oncologist. He doesn't have the power to keep you here does he, someone you know hired you,"

"We have a lot in common then. Without your work and John following you home like a lost puppy you'd tumble of your wagon, wouldn't you? You're not technically being paid through any normal means no ones insane enough to hire you. Your "dictator" of a brother likely deals with most matters too grown-up for you care about. It's no wonder you have your brother and your quote-unquote employer dealing you your finance," By this point staring into the void turned into staring at each other for James and John.

"So you've gotten clean, happy six-- no seven months. If I subscribed to step by step anything I would be happy to pass you a token or whatever the hell they give out. You Gregory House have surprised me,"

"As have you Sherlock, at least I have on thing on you,"

"Hmm?"

"My husband is better than yours,"

With that, it seemed the universe had finally given up. He'd said it, the apocalypse was near the horseman ride we're all doom. Fine, those were only the thoughts of one scared John Watson and a terrified James Wilson, but they knew their husbands, they knew them well.

"He beat cancer,"

"He got shot,"

"No wonder he got shot, his dress sense is terrible,"

"At least he doesn't insist on dumb ties with M&M's on them,"

"Don't you dare try and insult the ties,"

"Then you stay away from the sweaters. My husband is a war hero," They really are five-year-olds.

"Did you miss what I said about Cancer!"

"He's around the symptoms all day but couldn't diagnose himself, He didn't have to dig a bullet out of his shoulder it's not that hard," Within the second he stopped talking Greg was at it again.

"He braved through chemo for months, pulling something a bullet or anything out from under skin only takes a bathtub and some patience,"

"House!"

" Stop over-exaggerating Sherlock," With that John and James were sent some very choice glares.

"I'm not allowing you to sell your self short any longer John," Oh god, he's smirking.

"This really Isn't--,"

"You Captin and Dr. John Hamish Watson are a war hero, you were a war hero the second you took a bullet to save a dying man. You were a hero the moment used your body to shield that same man for a grenade. You were a hero the week prior when you pulled two little kids from a burning car," Yeah, with the response he got it was no wonder they'd been sent here, Mycroft needs to find a Soap Opera.

"Well, the car was only a little bit on fire," John tried to reason in a weak voice, earning a glare from Sherlock.

"How exactly can a car be just a little bit on fire? Explain that to me, Watson,"

Wilson just seemed to laugh at that adding in, in an exaggerated impression of House. "Jimmy stop being unrealistic, she only had a little bout of the pneumonic plague, it was hardly life treating,"

"I wasn't going to catch it, as I've explained a million times, she didn't have the plague," As the words left his mouth, Wilson was talking again.

"You willing went into a room with some who at the time, was showing every sign of the plague!"

"Since you bought that up I'd think it's only right I remind you," John was staring at Sherlock this time. "Of the time you willing went into a store that you knew was about to be robbed,"

"It was hardly dangerous they were practically falling over themselves trying to hold their guns,"

"Someone was shot!"

"It was a graze Watson he wasn't going to bleed out,"

That was the start of the nonsensical yelling.

"Jimmy, you can't call it a car crash!"

"I'd like to remind you that getting hit by a car while driving a motorcycle is still very much a car crash,"

"I promise he wasn't actually going to let me fall, I just needed to make sure he was the killer,"

"He only punched me lightly, I didn't even get kicked in the leg that time,"

"Kicked in the leg!"

"Your acting like the venom was going to kill me, I'm not a five-year-old I'm aware what anti-venom was needed. Honestly Watson,"

"She didn't have polio!"

"It was one little drop of acid, it couldn't to that much damage,"

"It was an entire spill in the shower!"

"You're acting like my lungs were going to collapse, I was a bruised rib,"

"A bruised rib among several broken ones!"

"It was merely a scratch I didn't need an ambulance,"

"I only slipped once Jimmy, only once!"

"I didn't get frostbite, I wasn't going to lose any fingers,"

"No, you were only going to cough up your lungs afterward! You had fluid in both lungs Sherlock!"

* * *

The aftermath of the argument was, weird to say the least. Sherlock had left the room with Greg, stolen wallets in hand. Grins plastered on both of there faces. James and John both knew they'd been taken, at this point, the wallets were in their possession for less than half of the day. The giddy feeling of the argument had worn off and they just sat there with stolen red mugs of dark coffee.

"My husband is dumber than yours," A low chuckle left James's lips

"They're both idiots, too smart for their own good, no filter. But there is not a single thing I would change about Sherlock, not a single thing,"

"From the day I met him, I just knew my life had changed,"

"And there isn't a greater feeling is there,"

"Not, at all,"

* * *

"So you finally got them to meet, you'd think the world would have ended with them so close together,"

"May I remind you, Greg, this was your idea,"

"In my defense, it's not every day that Sherlock has a chance to meet a friend,"

"Very true,"

"Wonder if he'll remember that Gerg's name?"

"When they were pen-pals teens, he seemed to delete that bit of information as well,"

"Hmm, Wake me up with the sky opens up and we meet our fate,"

"Of course,"

"I love you,"

"I love you too Greg,"

"You better--" A yawn cut him off.

"I'll get some sleep when I get back, don't worry,"

The light switched off with a small click as the rain finally started to pick up. With his umbrella by his side, he made his way down the stairs and to the foyer. It tapped lightly on the ground until he made his way outside and opened it. Today was a good day, he was sure.


End file.
